


Four in the Morning

by IdrisSmith



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform, Warstan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:56:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4884535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrisSmith/pseuds/IdrisSmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stag night is a tradition that even the Great Sherlock Holmes knew he cannot deny his best friend from having.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four in the Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilsherlockian1975](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsherlockian1975/gifts).



> This story was inspired by an awesome event that happened to lilsherlockian1975. And not BETA'd... And hopefully you'd enjoy this :D
> 
> http://lilsherlockian1975.tumblr.com/post/129990539999/the-funniest-thing-happened-last-night

Sherlock Holmes was a terrible drunk and this was something that had been proven during John Watson’s stag night just three years previously. It was a feat Sherlock had not intended to repeat. However, when John had insisted on throwing him a stag party for Sherlock, and using his own daughter Elizabeth (quite an unfair advantage since Sherlock adore the girl), he knew it was a losing battle.

“Come on, you’re only getting married once,” Greg said pointedly and as overly cheerful as he did so, “Quite literally in your case seeing there really is no other woman that would put up with you,”

The corner of Sherlock’s mouth twitched, to his left, Anderson did his best to hide his chuckle. Stamford on the other hand was all too happy to be munching on the plate of biscuits provided by Mrs Hudson. Sherlock had to wonder whether the woman had laced them with something, though, she most likely did not. 

He grunted, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He disliked being corned the way he was at that very moment.

“I have no need of parties or the need to follow social conventions,” He scoffed.

“Yeah you do,” John was bouncing Elizabeth on his knee. The toddler’s giggle lifted the moon of everyone in the room.

“That’s quite a dirty trick,” Sherlock said unhappily, crossing his arms across his chest. His eyes landed on the child and a smile was threatening to spread just at the corner of his lips.

“What is?” John was playing dumb, it was obvious what he was doing and he knew Sherlock could guess it right away.

“You cannot use your daughter to coerce me into an agreement,” Sherlock said irritably, his lips thinned and he knew it was a losing battle.

“I’ll use whatever and whomever I want,” John replied as he made faces at Elizabeth, earning him another fit of giggles from the child.

“It’s just a couple of pints,” Stamford butted in, he had cleared the plate of its final biscuit, “You owe us that much,” 

He did and Sherlock cannot argue with any men or baby in the room. Over the past three years, everyone in the room had contributed to both bringing Moriarty and his empire down for good as well as helping him figuring his own puzzles, leading them all to this very day.

“Plus, Mary insisted,” John added, not looking up from Elizabeth.

Mary’s name, it was the final nail in the coffin.

\--

“Shouldn’t we slow down?” Anderson, surprisingly, was the voice of reason.

The night was getting late and the crowd in the pub (their eleventh or maybe twelfth, everyone lost count around the eighth pub) was thinning as the group got smaller with each move. Mycroft who had been tricked (by Anthea) had stayed for a few pints and three pubs, Stamford left after the fifth pub and somewhere in the middle, only Greg, John, Anderson and Sherlock that were left downing a glass of beer after another.

“Pssshhh…” John was swaying, “One more drink won’t hurt anyone,” 

Greg was roaring with laughter, slapping John’s back so hard that the good doctor sauntered a few steps forward, “This round’s on me!” He shouted cheerfully.

“Every round’s on Mycroft,” Sherlock slurred, “He said to c-c-“

“Charged it to his credit card,” Anderson added helpfully.

“That’s right!” Sherlock shouted, throwing an arm across Anderson’s shoulder, “Why are you never this helpful in the field?”

“Bit not good, S’lock,” John started to hiccupped.

“It’s fine,” Anderson replied easily, he was the last remaining sensible one in the group, limiting his drinks as they hopped from one pub to another, “I need to get going, early morning shift,”

\--

“Do you know that song?” Sherlock asked, swaying to the left and right with John trying to keep him in line.

He was not doing any better either, not being able to walk straight himself. It was around two, maybe two thirty in the morning and the men, minus Greg who had lost his consciousness at the last pub. Sherlock started to sing, loudly and very off key. 

“Shhhhh...” John tried to dragged Sherlock to the sidewalk as he sushed his friend, “Not the right song,”

“It wasn’t?” Sherlock asked, his head was off elsewhere, every single façade he had worn faded away when alcohol was involved. Alcohol and that one person.

“This is not the way home!” He exclaimed suddenly as John barely managed to push him onto the sidewalk, avoiding a taxi that was passing by.

John squinted, turning and twirling, “It is the way home!” He shouted back.

\--

Molly tossed in her sleep. She was not used to the mattress or the room in which she was sleeping on. Still, it was not something she can complain about. It was not her bed or it was her house. It wasn’t exactly the bed she wanted to be sleeping in, but, tradition dictated that the bride and groom were to not see each other the day before the wedding. It left her with very little choice. It was not like she still had her flat and all of her family were back in Newcastle.

And she was going to go to a hotel. It was not a big deal. She was a big girl, it was until her fiancée decided to be a big baby and got his best friend to agree to play host to her. She hated imposing even on her friend (Meena who had offered her couch, Molly declined on the basis that the couch was probably infested, the woman never master the art of cleaning nor care to) and her colleague from work did offer her a spare bedroom as well, though, they hardly ever spoke and it didn’t feel appropriate. Sally, she didn’t even dare to ask given the fact the woman hated her fiancée’s gut.

A soft knock on the door startled her, “Who is it?”

“You’re still awake?” A female voice asked instead of answering her question, “Can I come in?”

Molly shuffled into a sitting position, “Yeah, sure,” She answered.

Her eyes fixed on the door, noting a smiling blond woman pushing the door open, balancing a tray in one hand with ease, “I figured you’d need these,” She said.

She flicked the light switch on as she walked and closed the door behind her. Molly had simply held her hand out to take the tray when the woman claimed a seat on the large bed.

“Thanks, Mary,” Molly said with a small smile.

“No problem,” Mary beamed, “I figured you’d probably have some pre-wedding jitters and Sherlock put you up here so you’d have someone to talk to,”

“Yes, I’m sorry about that, you know how Sherlock is,” Molly rolled her eyes, prompting Mary to laugh.

Their laughter was cut short when a loud conversation from outside of the house took over. They stayed still, listening to the slurs of songs and exchange until the footsteps faded before they started to giggle themselves, recognizing the voices.

“Well, that’s something,” Mary said easily, “How drunk do you think they are?”

“As long as he showed up for the wedding unscathed tomorrow, he can be as drunk as he liked,” Molly giggled, amused. She remembered not too long ago Sherlock and John had ended up just as drunk if not more a couple of days before John’s own wedding to Mary. Greg had been fairly amused as well as crossed when he had to bail the two friend out of a jail much too early in the morning for John to be able to make it to the fitting.

“I wish they could have done their stag night last week,” Mary threw her gaze at the half opened window, “But, Elizabeth was coming down with something,”

“It’s fine, if they had it last week, we’d be in real trouble,” Molly chuckled, “I might have drank a little too much with a few of my university friend and Sherlock had to pick me up from my hen party,”

Mary laughed, “Sounds like a party, I wish I could have been there,”

“Me too,” A smile formed on Molly’s lips, “But, I know Elizabeth’s health should always come first. Besides, you got me lunch the next day,”

“Yeah, that was some lunch,” Mary teased, remembering how Molly had shown up with a large sunglass covering half her face as if she was a celebrity.

“I should remember not to drink as much, ever again,” Molly laughed easily.

Her hen night had been entertaining, minus one Mary Watson. She would have liked if Mary could have been there. They had formed a bond over the past three years and even though they weren’t as close as she and Meena were, Molly quite liked Mary. Though, she was glad the woman had missed the party as well. One being drunk Sally was and how she spent a good portion of the night pissing on Sherlock. Molly, trying to be as polite as ever, downed more drinks imaginable to avoid making a snarky remark at the detective.

“Yeah, who was it that gave Detective Sargent Donovan a black eye,” Mary smiled like a Cheshire cat and Molly knew the good doctor’s wife was asking her a rhetorical question. Of course everyone knew. The news travelled so fast the Enterprise would be ashamed of its own speed.

“In my defense, I was really drunk,” Molly blushed, “And I don’t remember punching her,”

“You should be proud though,” Mary grinned, “Sherlock and Greg said it was one hell of a punch,”

“Sherlock never really did stop teasing me about it,” The pathologist shook her head, running her fingers through her hair, “It’s not like I meant to punch her,”

Laughter roared from Mary, she was impressed when she had heard the news from Sherlock. The man had looked so proud of Molly and Mary couldn’t help but smile at the memory. The two was definitely made for each other. The length they would go in defense of the other had always been admirable. Sherlock was cold to just about anyone, but, Molly. Molly was a different story. There was a type of gentleness that cannot be explained when he was with her.

“I think Detective Sargent Donovan had forgiven you by now.” Mary said even though she knew Molly didn’t need it.

“Well, she is coming to the wedding,” Molly chuckled, “Maybe I should have Greg pat her down before we let her in,”

Mary’s eyes gleamed in amusement, “I knew there’s a reason why I like you,” 

“Why thank you,” Molly bowed a little.

\--

“I’m not drunk!” Sherlock shouted as he and John exited another pub. 

It was getting later and later into the night. Even when it was just the two of them left (plus the dark Mercedes with tinted windows that were following them), they were still at it. Sherlock had lost count on the number and type of alcohol he had consumed. His brain had not only left him, but, failed him as well. He was starting to giggle like a teenage girl as he twirled around, shouting and professing his love to one brunette pathologist.

“Keep it down, you wanker!” A man shouted from out of nowhere.

“You keep it down!” Sherlock shouted back.

“Shhhhh!” John said, giggling just as hard as Sherlock and stumbled back onto a familiar road. 

\--

Another commotion out on the street halted the conversation between Molly and Mary yet again. They exchanged a smile, recognizing the same voices. Everyone else would have been very concerned of their loved ones walking about drunk as a long, but, not the two. They knew well enough one Mycroft Holmes would have placed a security detail to tail his brother and friend. They were definitely not wrong.  
However, irritated neighbour was one thing Molly didn’t want Mary to have to deal with in the morning. So, she climbed down the bed and head to the window, hiding behind the thick curtain. Her eyes caught the time as she moved; it was nearly four thirty in the morning.

“Shhhh, it’s nearly four thirty in the morning. I will call the cops,” And by the cop, she meant Mycroft because chances are, Greg was probably passed out drunk as she knew Greg, Stamford and Anderson were with Sherlock and John earlier.

She noted John looking up and chuckled.

“Oh, so sorry. Were we being loud?” John’s voice was booming and his words were slurred.

Molly sighed, shaking her head. Hoping to God Sherlock was not half as drunk as John and would not be nursing a terrible hangover in the morning or at least Mycroft had invented some sort of hangover-be-gone tablet. 

“Yes, very. Now be quiet and be careful. You’re both drunk,” She told them and spotted a dark car following them just a few meters away. Another chuckle escaped her lips; alcohol can really impair Sherlock’s ability to notice the obvious.

Her eyes landed on Sherlock that was simply staring at the window.

“You’re beautiful!” He blurted and Molly could feel herself blushed scarlet. 

From the corner of her eyes, she could see Mary was shuffling to join her at the window, hiding behind the heavy curtain as well. A fit of giggle was threatening to fall from the nurse’s mouth when she spotted John swaying about behind the bushes.

“Hey John!” Sherlock shouted, “Get back here, this cat is yelling at me,”

Molly furrowed her eyebrows together wondering what Sherlock had meant by a cat yelling at him, turning slightly at Mary, “Do you have a cat flap or something?”

“Yeah, it came with the house,” Mary answered flatly.

“Toby!” Molly replied in a hush tone, realizing the feline had probably made his way out of the house some time ago. Toby was hardly ever comfortable anywhere saved from Baker Street and her old flat. Change was not something Toby was ever really good with, but, he liked Sherlock and that counted for something.

Her mind was reeling, but, Molly was distracted as Sherlock started to shout random deductions or attempts at deductions.

“Hey, bring it down a notch. Someone’s going to call the cops!” Molly said quickly, worrying that if anyone else other than their friends showing up, Sherlock and John could very well be charged and the wedding would have to be postponed.

“There’s John,” Mary said easily, noting John jumping out of the bushes.

Molly shook her head. Something told her that John would never hear the end of this from Mary and she could not fault the woman. It was hilarious; if not for the fact she was worried of her fiancée and their ceremony in the morning.

“This cat is, this bossy beautiful cat keeps yelling at me,” Sherlock asked, swaying a little, “What should I do?”

John, bless him for having a good judgment even when drunk, pulled on Sherlock, “Listen to her and come on,”

Sherlock, looking as if he had just had an epiphany waved, “Bye talking cat, sorry we woke you up! You’re beautiful,”

Molly could only shake her head as she watched John dragged Sherlock and the dark car following their steps. At least she knew they would be relatively safe unless alcohol poisoning killed them first.

“That’s your fiancée,” Mary said with a yawn.

The street was quiet again, save from the distant sound of vehicles passing by and, of course, drunken men and women making their way home.

“And your husband,” Molly replied without missing a beat.

Mary managed a grin, “Touché,”


End file.
